The Great American Poet

I celebrate myself. Leaves of Grass is out now. 

[waltsspecimendays]

“Convulsiveness”

My thoughts today:

As I have look’d over the preceding posts of my pages, I have once or twice fear’d that my journal would prove, at best, but a batch of convulsively written reminiscences. Well bet it so. They are but part of the actual distraction, heat, smoke and excitement of those times. The war itself, with the temper of society preceding it, can indeed be best described by that very word -

Convulsiveness

(799)

[waltsspecimendays]

A New York Soldier

I am left with few words...

Of those that do remain:

This afternoon, I have spent a long time with Oscar F. Wilber, company G, 154th New York, low with chronic diarrhoea, and a bad wound also. He asked me to read him a chapter in the New Testament. I complied, and ask’d him what I should read. He said, “Make your own choice.”

I open’d at the close of one of the first books of the evangelists, and read the chapters describing the latter hours of Christ, and the scenes at the crucifixion. The poor, wasted young man ask’d me to read the following chapter also, how Christ rose again.

I read very slowly, for Oscar was feeble. It pleased him very much, yet the tears were in his eyes. He ask’d me if I enjoy’d religion. I said, “Perhaps not my dear, in the way you mean, and yet, may-be, it is the same thing.” He said, “It is my chief reliance.” He talk’d of death, and said he did not fear it. I said, “Why, Oscar, don’t you think you will get well?” He said, “I may, but it is not probable.”

He spoke calmly of his condition. The wound was very bad, it discharg’d much. Then the diarrheoe had prostrated him, and I felt that he was even then the same as dying. He behaved very manly and affectionate. The kiss I gave him as I was about leaving he return’d fourfold. He gave me his mother’s address, Mrs. Sally D. Wilber, Alleghany post-office, Cattaraugus count, N.Y. I had several such interviews with him.

He died a few days after the one just described.

(754-755)

[waltsspecimendays]

Deserters

Today’s report:

Saw a large squad of our own deserters, (over 300) surrounded with a cordon of arm’d guards, marching along Pennsylvania avenue. The most motley collection I ever saw, all sorts of rig, all sorts of hats and caps, may fine-looking young fellows, some of them shame-faced, some sickly, most of them dirty, shirts very dirty and long worn.

They tramp’d along without order, a huge huddling mass, not in ranks. I saw some of the spectators laughing, but I felt like anything else but laughing. These deserters are far more numerous than would be thought. Almost every day I see squads of them, sometimes two or three at a time, with a small guard; sometimes ten or twelve, under a larger one.

(I hear that desertions from the army now in the filed have often averaged 10,000 a month. One of the commonest sights in Washington is a squad of deserters.)

(771-772)

[waltsspecimendays]

An Army Hospital Ward

I recount what must be recalled,

My trip to the hospital to-day…

Recorded just for you.

My current draft:

Let me specialize a visit I made to the collection of barrack-like one-story edifices, Campbell hospital, out on the flats, at the end of the then horse railway route, on Seventh street. There is a long building appropriated to each ward. Let us go into ward 6.

It contains to-day, I should judge, eighty or a hundred patients, half sick, half wounded. The edifice is nothing but boards, well whitewash’d inside, and the usual slender-framed iron bedsteads, narrow and plain. You walk down the central passage, with a row on either side, their feet towards you, and their heads to the wall.

The view of the whole edifice and occupants can be taken at once, for there is no partition. You may hear groans or other sounds of unendurable suffering from two or three of the cots, but in the main there is quite – almost a painful absence of demonstration; but the pallid face, the dull’d eye, and the moisture on the lip, are demonstration enough.

Most of these sick or hurt are evidently young fellows from the country, farmers’ sons, and such like. Look at the fine large frames, the bright and broad countenances, and the many yet lingering proofs of strong constitution and physique. Look at the patient and mute manner of our American wounded as they lie in such a sad collection; representatives from all New England, and from New York, and New Jersey, and Pennsylvania...

Most of them are entirely without friends or acquaintances here – no familiar face, and hardly a word of sympathy or cheer, through their sometimes long and tedious sickness, or the pangs of aggravated wounds.

 (742-743)

[waltsspecimendays]

Opening of The Secession War

It was all a-stir…

Here is a draft of my entry for to-day:

 News of the attack on fort Sumter and the flag at Charleston harbor, S.C., was receiv’d in New York city late last night and was immediately sent out in extras of the newspapers.

I had been to the opera in Fourteenth street that night, and after the performance was walking down Broadway when I heard in the distance the loud cries of the newsboys, who came presently tearing and yelling up the street, rushing from side to side even more furiously than usual.

I bought an extra and cross’d to the Metropolitan hotel where the great lamps were still brightly blazing, and, with a crowd of others, who gather’d impromptu, read the news, which was evidently authentic. For the benefit of some who had no papers, one of us read the telegram aloud, while all listen’d silently and attentively. No remark was made by any of the crowd, which had increas’d to thirty or forty, but all stood a minute or two, I remember, before they dispers’d.

I can almost see them there now, under the lamps at midnight again.

 (730)

[waltsspecimendays]

I write and invite you to join me

As I journey and record the day-to-day

Within this blog preparing myself to be revealed,

To give you all Specimen Days & Collect.